


Tell Me

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10235186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: “Look at me, Sherlock,” John commanded softly. He had raised his head and now both hands were working Sherlock’s chest. “Tell me what you imagine in your beautiful, fantastic mind.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Come_At_Once challenge. Prompt: "A full and frank exchange of views."

_Touch your lips just so I know_  
_In your eyes, love, it glows so_  
_I'm bare boned and crazy for you_  
_When you come crash_  
_into me, baby_  
_And I come into you_  
_In a boys dream_  
_~Dave Matthews_

 

John leaned over Sherlock, pinning his arms overhead against the dark wood of the headboard. “A full and frank exchange of views, you said.” He bent and caressed Sherlock’s eyebrows with his lips. “Then be frank with me, Sherlock. What are your views, currently?”

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly. John’s utter control of him while aroused was a sight unto itself. “My view in this moment is, of course, you,” he breathed, trying to capture John’s mouth but John retreated frustratingly out of his lips’ reach.

“Ah-ah, no. Tell me more.”

Sherlock flexed his fingers, entwined with John’s. “All right. _Frankly_ , my view is of one handsome doctor and former soldier. One very strong man who has me quite firmly in his grip.”

John rewarded that answer with a kiss, sliding his tongue along the edges of Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock opened his mouth to capture that soft sweetness but again, John prevented its taking. Sherlock blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Your turn. What is it you see?”

John sat back, considering. Sherlock’s cock was now trapped pleasantly beneath John’s bottom, and he bit back a groan. The head of his cock pressed against the base of John’s, and John had prepared himself to ride. The slickness and heat brought Sherlock’s arousal at least four notches higher. John’s sensual gaze brought it two more.

“ _Frankly_ , I see a man who knows what he likes. However, this ‘sexual congress’, as he so once scientifically put it, feels fresh and new to him, and he doesn’t know how to ask me for what he likes.”

Sherlock tilted his hips, indicating his want.

“Tell me, Sherlock. Tell me what it is you want. I want to see your pretty mouth and those incredible lips shaping the words.” John rocked his own pelvis, grinding down.

Sherlock gasped. “I want… I want…”

John set a rhythm, a slow, careful undulation. “Full view, Sherlock. Tell me everything. Details. What you want, how you want it, how you want me. How you want you, even. What is your fantasy, Sherlock? When I’m working an overnight shift, and you’re here alone, what do you think about? Do you imagine us together? Tell me. What do you want to see? What’s your view?”

Sherlock shuddered. “We sit on the sofa and kiss.” John leaned down and did so, slowly and sensuously.

“Like this?”  he whispered against Sherlock’s lips.

He responded just as softly. “Yes. Then you unbutton two buttons of my shirt.”

“Is it the purple one?” John’s gaze had turned thoughtful, and Sherlock thought he looked so lovely, so gorgeous, moving above him with the streetlight glow catching the silver in his hair.

“Yes. Always. And then you tease my nipple with your fingertip.”

“I love your nipples.” John released one of Sherlock’s hands but placed it next to the other, his fist covering both. With his free hand he drew slowly down, threading through the soft curls of Sherlock’s hair, fingertips lightly dragging down Sherlock’s eyes, nose, and lips, trailing further down his throat and chest until they found one nipple. He drew a fingernail lightly across it. Sherlock’s cock twitched and John grinned. “Such power I have.” He touched the other nipple, and Sherlock groaned. “What’s next, lover?”

The bedroom felt hot and close. The ripe scent of John’s aroused body combined with his own, drifting and filling the space between them.  “No, your turn. What comes next for you in this s-s-scenario?” Sherlock stuttered out, turning his head to one side for a breath of cooler air.

John tilted his head, considering. Sherlock waited and counted. One rocking motion. Two, five, seven… It wasn’t enough to make him come. He spread his legs and bent his knees, pushing up.

John rose to his own knees, denying him further contact there. “Not yet. We’re nowhere near that yet.” He bent and licked the first nipple. “I unzip my trousers and then straddle your lap. I bend down and lick and nibble one little nub for a minute or two, and then,” he moved to the other side, “I do the same over here. And you’d have your hands in my hair.” He released Sherlock’s hands.

Sherlock did as John wished, gently cradling and guiding. John stroked the other nipple with his finger. He raised his head just enough to ask, “Now what do we do?”

Sherlock’s brain was becoming muzzled and fractured. Words, beautiful in font and colored in need floated through his distracted mind as he struggled to speak them.

“Look at me, Sherlock,” John commanded softly. He had raised his head and now both hands were working Sherlock’s chest. “Tell me what you imagine in your beautiful, fantastic mind.”

Sherlock’s fingers roamed restlessly across John’s head and through his hair. “I catch a glance at the skull on the fireplace and I think how much better a friend you are than he ever was.” John, caught off-guard, huffed out a laugh.

“I love you. Keep going.”

Sherlock breathed deeply. “You finish unbuttoning my shirt while your tongue is busy doing beautifully unspeakable things to me,” he murmured. “You pull out my shirttails and push my shirt off my shoulders. M-my erection is getting uncomfortable, trapped as it is inside my trousers.”

John leaned back, pressing back down on Sherlock’s cock. “Trapped, like this?”

Sherlock groaned at the hot and slick contact. “No, this is good. In my trousers, it’s terrible. As if strangling. It can’t _breathe_ , John.”

“My turn?” Sherlock nodded once.  John moved off him, kneeling on the side of the bed. “Sit up, Sherlock, against the headboard.” Once Sherlock had settled, John straddled his thighs. “So I’m here, on your lap, and your hard-on needs a breath of good old-fashioned fresh air. I unbutton and unzip you, and tug down your trousers and pants just enough for your cockhead to peek out, all purple and hot and needy.” John mimed these actions, his hands ghosting over Sherlock’s cock. “It’s beautiful.”

“You stand and gently and carefully pull my pants all the way off and I’m on the sofa with my shirt open but still on, and my trousers and pants around my knees. You run your hands up and down my tensed thighs.”

John followed this direction to his role-playing, sliding back and moving imaginary clothing. “You look hot like that,” he whispered. “With your clothes half off.  But your cock is hard and you really want me. Like you can’t take the time to undress. You need me now, right now.”

“You kneel on the floor. Your hands are on my legs while you take me in your mouth.” Sherlock’s head knocked back against the wall as John’s warm, moist mouth enveloped him. “Slow, slow,” he pants. “So slow.”

John stopped sucking long enough to look up at Sherlock through his lashes. His breath felt cool against Sherlock’s damp cock. “I can feel you start to toss your head back and forth on the back of the sofa. You want more but I’m not going to speed anything up.”

Sherlock whimpered. “I let you continue for a few minutes but soon I c-can’t take it anymore. It’s not enough, it’s not enough…” He pulled John up to face him. “You climb into my lap and then you s-sink down onto my cock. I’m so hard, John. I need you so much.”

And so John did, his face contorting into a mask of mixed pain and pleasure. “You fill me so perfectly, so completely, Sherlock.”

It was becoming understandably hard to focus. John surrounded him so completely – cock, heart, life. He placed one palm along the side of John’s face, and with the other he grasped John’s cock. The skin there was hot, and soft, and moved easily in his hand.

John groaned, pressing his cheek into Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock…”

“Words. Tell me. Can you?” His voice sounded ragged in his ears. He needed to move. He needed John to move. “What…do you do?”

“I ride. Up and down and watch your face change as the pleasure takes you.” John’s gaze locked to his own. As John’s mouth fell open, so did Sherlock’s. “You put your thumb in my mouth and let me suck it.”

Sherlock slid his thumb down to John’s open mouth.

“I use my wet thumb to stroke your cock, mixing with what’s already leaking from the head. You like it. Your eyes roll back.”

John’s do, a moan rising from him. “There, like that…a little faster. Fuck, Sherlock.”

Sherlock spread his legs wider and tilted his pelvis up. “Ride me, John. You ride me like a horse and my cock finds that beautiful spot inside you. The one that makes you cry out. I love it when you cry out.”

John altered his angle and cried out. Sherlock felt his balls tighten at the sound and he pumped John’s cock faster, planting his feet and rising to meet his lover. “My nipples, John. T-touch them.”

John leaned forward just enough to reach him and cried out, gasping, again. “Sherlock! Fuck…”

The combined sensations of his cock being caressed inside John’s body and his nipples being rubbed and twisted sent a triple jolt through Sherlock. He called out, thumping his head against the wall. “God, John. Oh God!”

His fist jerked erratically over John’s cock, pulling over the head and down again, thrusting into John as much as he could.

Somewhere in a more collected area of Sherlock’s mind, he envisioned what they must look like to an outsider. Two men, skin to skin and cock in body and hand, writhing, rising, falling, calling out names in shouts and whispers. Erotic and beautiful.

John stiffened above him all at once, rising up, and his cock pulsed. Semen spattered over Sherlock’s chest. The rhythmic undulations inside John brought Sherlock to his own end, with one last desperate thrust. “John!”

*~*~*

John slid carefully off, collapsing at Sherlock’s side. “Now, love, tell me what your view is.”

Sherlock turned his head. John’s face was slack with afterglow. “One very satisfied man.”

“Two. You look utterly debauched.”

“I can’t see myself, John.”

“Trust me.”

“All right. Two very satisfied men.”

“So…”

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. “So?”

John rose up on one elbow and gazed down at him. “The scenario you just shared, is that something you’d want to do for real?”

“Full and frank exchange of views?”

“Hey, this was your idea.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t quite what I meant when I brought it up, but…” He lifted his head up and kissed John. “I like where it went.”

John’s voice dropped low and quiet. “Share more of your fantasies with me, Sherlock. I mean it. Don’t hold out on me. Ask for what you like.”

“And you, John?”

John grinned. “Oh, you know I’ll share mine. I’ve lots of naughty plans for us now.”

Sherlock folded his hands across his chest and spoke clearly, as if reciting for school. “John, I find the idea of partially-clothed sex incredibly arousing.”

John leaned over and kissed a nipple. “Oh, don’t you worry. I can most definitely work with that particular kink. Um…your shirt sleeves won’t rip if I use them to tie your arms behind you…will they?”

Sherlock groaned. “I look forward to finding out.”

~End

 


End file.
